The Evil Acorn
by Saffron Panther
Summary: An ill-fated encounter with a radioactive acorn meets an idea stewing in the mind of a Brak Show fan for over thirteen years. It can only end so well for poor Brak, once it changes his personality.


It was a day like any other, lined with a photorealistic backdrop the locals accepted as their neighborhood. A bizarre feline alien strolled down the sidewalk of an unnamed street. He stopped momentarily to inspect the sky. For some reason, he could feel eyes upon him. But soon enough pleasant thoughts of beans, Fish Pockets, and song composition drowned out his paranoia.

"I'm walkin' down the street, down the street," he sang, swinging his airs to the beat. "Movin' with the rhythm of the heat, of the heat. With the hot sidewalk beneATH MY FEEEEEEEEEET!" His arms shot out dramatically.

"Hey, ijit!" screamed a Lewis Black-like voice.

The feline creature lowered his arms and turned towards an oak embedded in the lawn of an unseen, unimportant neighbor. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's _you_. What do you want, to conk my noggin with your stupid branch again?"

"What are you talking about?!"

His face softened. "I guess you don't remember. There was this one time I was walking down the street–like I was doing before you yelled at me–, when I hit my head on one of your branches." He chuckled. "It was kinda funny."

"I'm _in_ the tree, you idiot!"

The alien's eyes widened. "Oh, no! Is that you, Zorak? Did you get turned into a tree?! Was it a wish gone horribly wrong? Why couldn't you have picked something cooler, like a penguin?"

"Who the - is Zorak?!"

He sighed with relief. "That's good. My best friend in the whole white world didn't get turned into a tree. And he didn't waste his wish, either. Well, then, Mr. Tree, how about we start over? My name's Brak. What's yours?"

"Look up, ya nimrod."

Atop the branch sat a squirrel. His fur was a penciled gray. His eyes threatened to bulge from their sockets. His paws curled into gnarled fists. And for some strange reason, Brak pictured him playing the drums. That brought a smile to his lipless face. "Awww, hey, little guy. Do you got enough nuts for the winter?"

"That's rich. Why don't you go back to your little tea party and leave me alone?"

"I'll have you know, good sir, that my tea parties are the talk of the town," Brak replied, indignantly. "Or, at least the talk of my bedroom," he quietly added.

"I'm sure."

Brak eyed something behind the rodent. "Whatcha got there, Mr. Squirrel?"

The squirrel's arms curled around a glowing green acorn the size of Brak's fist. "It's nothing!"

"Is that a radioactive nut? Does it give you superpowers? Ohhh, I wish I had superpowers!"

The squirrel snorted. "Yeah, it makes me grow a camel hump, so I can give water to all the thirsty kids in the world."

"Really?"

"I was joking, you idiot!"

"You were? I don't get it."

The squirrel sighed painfully. "Is there someone else you can annoy? I'm busy here–" His left hindpaw slipped. And his glowing, possibly radioactive acorn flew into the air.

"I'll save your nut, Mr. Squirrel!" Brak extended his arms. "I got it! I got it!"

And, indeed, Brak caught the glowing acorn…with his head. With a sound not unlike a bowling pin, he toppled onto the concrete. Deciding it was unwise to hang around a potentially dead cat-thing, the squirrel elected gathered his acorn and fled the scene.

A sour-looking mantis stopped by a few seconds later. "You're in my way."

Brak blinked and calmly rose to his feet. He blinked again, as if seeing the world for the first time. "I had an accident."

"Crapped your pants in public, again?"

Brak's face curled into a grin. "Ah, toilet humor. Very amusing, Zorak."

Now it was the mantis' turn to blink. "Um…okay."

Brak raised his hand. "You don't need to worry. It was a mere slip-and-fall, one I have recovered from. No need for alarm."

Zorak glared. "Something's fishy. Why aren't you trying to sing some stupid song, or talk about being friends, or some other wussy crap?"

Brak chuckled. "I assure you I'm the same Brak you know and loathe. I've merely decided to assume a new persona–one far less grating on the nerves."

"If this is some sort of trick…"

"No trick at all, my good man. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and take a nap. It's been a long day."

"It's 11:30."

"So it is. Good day, my dear friend."

Zorak watched Brak walk offscreen. "I gotta stop burning hair…"

* * *

The gentleman of the house engaged in his late morning ritual. It started with a stilted walk to the kitchen table, where his paper awaited him. He then sat down to read the articles. You never knew what you'd find. (Although he hoped it wouldn't be another letdown, like "All Women's Clothing, Half-Off". What a short-lived fantasy that had been.) Today, he learned how Huckleberry Hound raked in a fortune selling fake noses. But it wasn't until he flipped the page that he noticed something…amiss.

"Hmmm…Mother, did we hire someone to superglue my chair?" He tried to stand. The chair bobbed beneath him. He crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling. "That's the last time I take any recommendation from George."

As opportune as ever, Brak strolled into the kitchen. The gentleman made another futile effort to separate himself from the chair. The next bob knocked him flat on his face. "Oh, hello, son. I'm just trying a new exercise routine suggested by Cousin Maxwell."

The feline alien withheld a laugh. "Is that so? It must be doing wonders for your posterior, Dad." Brak's fingers curled around something gray and red-capped.

Dad raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to know who superglued my chair, would you?"

Another barely-restrained laugh. "No, I don't believe I would."

"I see." Dad crossed his arms–which proved somewhat difficult. "Then can you tell me why you have a tube of superglue in your hand?"

Brak scoffed. "You accuse me of such an underhanded and surely evil prank? I, sir, am offended."

"No, what you are is grounded, if you don't get my sweet ass off of this chair!"

A feline-like woman entered from the left and surveyed the scene. "What's going on?" she asked (a la June Cleaver or in a British accent, to your liking).

"That freaking psychopath you call a son superglued my chair. And he's going to be grounded for the next thousand years if he doesn't find me some solvent!" Dad tried to shake his fist…which, again, proved difficult.

"It's only a little misunderstanding, Mom. And you're a grown man; do it yourself. Unless you've become enfeebled in your old age."

"Why you lit…Mother, what does "enfeebled" mean? Is it bad? It sounds bad."

Mom groaned. "I'll go find the solvent. And then you and I are going to have a talk, Mister." Her eyes focused on Brak.

Their son shrugged. "Perhaps later. I'm going upstairs to my room to take a nap."

"You're going to rot up there if you don't get me my freaking solvent!"

"Don't wear yourself out, Dear. Brak, what's wrong? Are you feeling all right?"

Brak's fanged mouth curled into another grin. "I've never felt better. We can discuss things after I've rested. All this fun takes a lot out of me." He walked away, casually tossing the spent superglue tube into the sink.

Mom crossed her arms. "Something's going on. And I'm going to find out what."

"Well, if you're not going to get my solvent, could you at least throw the paper down here? I wanted to see how Huckleberry Hound patented the Super Schnoz."

She rolled her eyes and dropped the newspaper atop his head. "I'll get the solvent. You wait here."

"Oh, yeah, that was clever," Dad grunted.

"What was that?"

"Something about Rubix cubes and Dalmatians. Oh, look! It says here that Tim and Eric are telling some more of their Bedtime Stories. Not around my freaking kids…"

"Very good, Dear. I'll be back."

"Take your time. I love lying here on the floor, feeling my nose get flatter by the second because my depraved offspring superglued my freaking chair!"

"Talk like that, and you'll have to see Huckleberry Hound about a new one," she growled.

"You think he'd have any in my size?"

* * *

As he was wont to do, Zorak tried to stave off boredom with petty acts of aggression. Unfortunately, some jerk beat him to the punch. Said jerk superglued numerous alien peers to the sidewalk, nondescript houses, and street signs. Even a passing wad of meat wasn't spared, haplessly crashing the tricked-out scooter with the brakes just out of reach.

The mantis felt conflicted. On the one hand, the sadist in him reveled in the apparent misery. On the other, the sadist was infuriated it hadn't been _his_ doing. The other hand soon won out. So, with an angry thrust of his fist, Zorak marched in the direction of Brak's house. He didn't know why, but something told him he'd find answers there.

Of course, he paused to insult the little man collapsed on the kitchen floor. Said little man threatened to snap off his beak and use it to perform a prostate exam. And like any mature adult, Zorak kicked the man's head and continued upstairs. _No, it couldn't be him. Brak's not that devious. Or that smart. He'd superglue his own frigging mouth shut, first._ After giggling at that mental image, he stopped outside Brak's room.

Perhaps he should've stayed away. The skull-littered loose leaf tacked to the door warned him, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. But since when did The Lone Locust of the Apocalypse ever listen to a stupid sign? He turned the knob and stepped inside.

And…it was anticlimactic. Brak sat at a small table, surrounded by plastic tea cups and dolls that crudely resembled his family and neighbors. Zorak smirked at the sock puppet standing in for the little man, but his smirk dropped at the sight of the doll in his likeness. If you could call a child's green raincoat with dotted baseballs and a jagged toilet paper roll a "doll". At least it looked better than Toaster Thundercleese. "What the hell is going on here?"

Brak grinned. Zorak couldn't figure why, but something didn't seem right about it. "I was entertaining my guests. We shared stories and hot cups of tea." He leaned in. "Which I've laced with fine amounts of arsenic–except my own, of course. But I suppose I don't have to whisper, now."

The mantis eyed the cups and torn Splenda packs. "Okay…anyway, some jerk's superglued everyone to everything. Know anything about that?"

Brak chuckled. Again, something felt so off. "I can confide in you, my trusted friend. I did it."

"You, what?"

"I did it," Brak repeated, rather proudly. "With but one tube, I was able to inconvenience everyone in the general vicinity by affixing them to the nearest surface. It was quite ingenious."

"What about Thundercleese and Clarence? I didn't see either of those losers."

Right on cue, the giant robot landed outside. Through Brak's window, the two watched Thundercleese spin in a failed effort to locate someone screaming behind him. "WHERE ARE YOU?! I CANNOT RESCUE YOU IF I CANNOT SEE YOU!"

"I'm stuck to your back–oh, God, stop spinning!" Zorak spotted Clarence tied with a garden hose and sealed to the robot's back. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"THUNDERCLEESE DOES NOT APPRECIATE YOUR INGRATITUDE!"

Zorak permitted himself to smile. "You did all that? That's actually kinda cool."

"I thought you'd like it, as juvenile as it may be."

"So what happened? You usually don't do fun stuff like this. You're usually more…"

"…of a simpleton? A fool? A moron?" Brak replied, a bit darkly.

"Eh, yeah, all of that. Since when did you start doing crap like this?"

"Since this morning, when I was struck by inspiration in the form of a radioactive acorn."

"…ooookay. Anyway, that was a pretty good start, but you should try something a bit…nastier."

"I considered supergluing some ants onto Clarence, but it'd defeat the point if they were unable to bite."

"Let's move away from superglue. You don't wanna get repetitive."

"You're right. I wouldn't want my newfound evil to become stale."

Zorak laughed.

Brak's eyes narrowed. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, you've changed, all right, but you're not evil. More of a nuisance, really. Don't get me wrong, it's a definite improvement. But it's not evil."

Brak glanced at the "poisoned" Zorak doll, its cardboard beak dusted with "arsenic". "Then what would you suggest?"

"Something bigger. Something nastier. Something with property damage and people asking, "Why?" Something truly evil."

Another grin. "I think I have the perfect idea. Would you care to help me?"

"You know what? Since you're actually worth hanging with, now. I just might."

"Excellent."

The two shared a hearty, evil laugh, while Thundercleese's targeting systems locked onto his ungrateful rescuee.

* * *

Even for the world's (mostly unbeaten) staring contest champion, challenging the eyeless floor to a game wasn't such a bright idea. Not that he blinked, mind, but Dad quickly grew bored from the lack of repartee. "Mother, have you found my solvent, yet?"

She stood over him. "No, I haven't. Seems _someone_ threw out our only tube."

"Hmmm…doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"I meant Brak. What has gotten into him?"

"I don't know, but I'm this close to welding his door shut for eternity."

"You don't know how to weld. Maybe you should go talk to him."

"That's a great idea. I'll just gnaw off my butt and drag my bleeding carcass up the stairs, staining all of our nice carpeting."

Mom sighed. "I'll get to the bottom of this. You…please don't do anything drastic."

"Oh, sure, abandon me in my time of need."

The feline alien angrily flipped Dad's chair over and walked out of the kitchen. Still unblinking, he looked over ceiling. "So, you think you can take on the king, Mr. Week-Old Pancake Stain? I'll make you eat your challenge!"

One jump cut later, Mom stood outside Brak's room. Rolling her eyes at the skull-littered ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK sign, she knocked. "Brak, honey, we need to talk."

No one replied or sang a little ditty about the circumstances. She cautiously opened the door, but found only the "gruesome" aftermath of the tea party. A Sharpied sock puppet Dad's head snapped over his chair. A purple sack resembling that nice boy Clarence bled potatoes from the gash in its chest. Her own effigy, topped with a severed mop head, lied face-down in an overturned cup of Splenda. And the less said about Toaster Thundercleese, the better.

"Oh, dear…" Mom's eyes shifted to the wall. In place of the usual clipart and _2 Stupid Dogs_ poster, there was a crayon drawing. And after a few attempts at deciphering the scratchy mess, she gasped. "I've got to stop him. I can only hope that horrible mantis hasn't gotten to him, first."

Downstairs, Dad refused to concede defeat with the eye-shaped pancake burn. "I never noticed how high this ceiling is. How in the hell did that get up there?"

Mom approached. "Brak's not in his room; and I fear he might be up to something. And if he's run into that friend of his…I don't want to think about it."

"So Brak ran away and you're going to hunt him down. Do we still have tranquilizer darts in the coat closet?"

"No, I threw those out after that little mishap on New Year's. I'll have to find him, myself. Hopefully, I'll be able to talk some sense into him."

"Yeah, you do that. The ceiling and I have a score to settle. I've never lost to a burn, peeling, or grease stain–and I sure don't intend to start now!"

"I suppose it's for the best." Mom looked out the window. Her hand moved to her mouth. "It looks like there might be trouble, already."

An ashen Thundercleese dropped outside, blasters still singeing. "WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS YOUR LITTLE HELLION SPAWN?! I WILL DESTROY HIM!"

The front door opened offscreen. An equally ashen Clarence, with fragmented pieces of garden hose seared into his skin, hobbled inside. "It's terrible! The pain is god-awFUL!"

"Clarence, Thundercleese, what happened?"

"YOUR OFFSPRING ANTAGONIZED THUNDERCLEESE WITH SUPERGLUE! AND MADE THUNDERCLEESE TARGET HIMSELF WITH A MISSILE BARRAGE! HE WILL PAY WITH HIS LIFE!"

"Is this true, Clarence?"

The purple alien bawled. "It's true. My best friend in the whole world has turned to evil! I would've expected that from Zorak, but Brak? Noooooooooo!"

"All right, calm down, both of you. I'm getting to the bottom of this. And I could use your help, but we must settle this nonviolently."

"NONVIOLENCE WILL NOT PACIFY MY WRATH!"

Mom glared at Thundercleese. The robot wisely lowered his arms and fell silent. Clarence continued to bawl. And Dad kept his gaze on the pancake burn. "I think I have an idea where he's gone. You can come with me, as long as you promise to remain nonviolent and quiet."

Clarence wiped away a few tears. "You mean, there's a chance we can redeem Brak? That I can save his soul?! The time for incessant sobbing is over! I will save you, Brak!"

"I RELUCTANTLY ACCEPT YOUR TERMS, AND WILL REDIRECT MY RAGE TOWARDS THE OBNOXIOUS PURPLE ONE."

"What?!"

"That's all I ask." Mom gestured towards the door. "Meet me in the front yard, and we'll search for Brak. I only hope we're not too late."

And thus, Mom marched outside with Clarence in tow. Dad, quite detached from the world around him, declared himself the winner when a fly landed in the pancake burn's eye.

* * *

Lurking in the rarely-filmed basement, Brak swept his arm across the air. "Behold, the finest team of evil-doers I could assemble."

Zorak groaned, "You gotta be kidding me."

A few aliens gathered around a heavily-scratched table. Brak waved for Zorak to follow. "I have brought together a band of villains who will aid in our wretched scheme to take over this pathetic excuse of a suburb. First, we have our culturally-refined gentleman, Mobab."

The smirking, top-hatted, squid-like creature's tentacles bobbed in the air. "Hello, Zorak," his melodious voice oozed. "I suppose they kicked you out of The Gentlemen's Club. How fortunate for me, since it gave me the chance to reclaim my rightful spot."

"I didn't wanna be in that stupid club, anyway. All those old farts kept cramping my style." Zorak leaned over to Brak. "Didn't he try to steal your Mom, or something?"

"Not to worry. I have the perfect leverage over him, should he let himself become distracted." Brak held up a tiny apple pie. Mobab's smirk fell. The catlike alien nodded and tucked the pie away. "Next, I present the Chestbreakers."

Two small pink monsters squabbled in unison, soon joined by their similarly squabbling twins. They hefted miniature flamethrowers and painted the air with miniature plumes. Zorak frowned. "And they are…?"

"A family of beasts that attacked my Father and I one Halloween." Brak's eyes sank into slits. "One I haven't forgotten, or forgiven."

The Chestbreakers immediately lowered their weapons and averted their gaze. Brak continued. "And then, we have a dedicated, professional supervillian–"

"The Slug!" the brain-exposed, dripping animal announced for himself. "I am the night terror that stalks your garden and devours your leaves. No plant is safe from–!"

Brak leant into The Slug's face. "What did I tell you about interrupting me with another of your inane monologues?"

The supervillain's face wrinkled. "…not to?"

"Precisely. And then–"

"CAW!" cut in the also top-hatted crow next to The Slug. "When are you going to get that thing I sent you?! I need it by five o'clock!"

Zorak glanced skeptically at Brak. The catlike alien shrugged. "He enslaved my Father on another planet and tried to eat us, or something. It was a boring, pointless adventure."

"Is this really the best you could do?"

"I don't know a lot of bad guys that aren't you, Zorak!"

The mantis shook his head. "Guess it's better than noth…" He frowned, again. "What's with the spoon?"

Next to The Crow sat a wooden spoon with a smiling face embedded into its scoop. "I'm Spoony! I'm your best bet if you need help with anything spoon-related!"

Zorak glanced at Brak. Brak nodded to The Chestbreakers. Chittering with delight, they ignited their weapons and reduced the screaming spoon to ashes within seconds. Content, Brak addressed the others. "I've gathered you all here for one simple reason: to break into Thundercleese's fortress and demand total surrender. If they refuse, we will detonate his largest payload and eradicate everyone around us. Any questions?"

"Yeah! When are you gonna get that thing I sent?!" The Crow barked.

Brak rolled his eyes. "Any _relevant_ questions?"

"What's gonna keep us from getting snuffed out with the rest of those chumps?" Zorak asked.

"Thundercleese constructed a bunker in the event of total nuclear annihilation–likely one he would've instigated out of boredom. We'll make our demands from within, and wait out the total eradication of all who oppose us with our supplies."

Zorak's eyes widened. "You're serious."

Brak's fanged mouth curled into another unnatural grin. "You said so, yourself. I have to try something bigger, something nastier. And what's bigger and nastier than the threat of fallout and death by fire?"

The mantis smiled. "I'm impressed."

"Excellent. Now, I will truly show the world how evil I am." Brak tapped his foot.

A musical cue kicked in. Zorak quickly realized what was to come. But before he could say anything, Brak began, to the tune of Dust Devil's "D-Code".

 _They're doomed._

 _Yes, they're all doomed,_

 _So ve-ry screwed._

 _Yes, they're all doomed._

 _Yes, it's quite true._

 _Soon, they'll be through,_

 _'Cuz I'll break 'em,_

 _And I'll shake 'em,_

 _And I'll take 'em down, down, down, down, down, down…_

 _I'll break 'em, and I'll shake 'em!_

 _I'll take 'em, and I'll break 'em!_

 _I'll crush 'em, and I'll rush 'em!_

 _Gonna knock 'em a-rouuuuund,_

 _Gonna make 'em all frowwwwwn!_

 _Gonna strike, smite, and scourrrrggge!_

 _And anything that might be worrrrrrse!_

 _I'll take 'em down, down, down, down, down, down…_

 _Gonna shake 'em, gonna break 'em,_

 _Gonna make 'em wish they had run!_

 _They'll pay for their disrespect,_

 _WHEN I BLOW THEM TO HECK!_

 _I'll toss 'em and I'll cross 'em,_

 _Gonna throw and box and sock 'em._

 _And I'll break 'em down, break 'em down, break 'em down,_

 _'Cuz I'm not a clown, not a clown, not a clown–_

"All right, enough! We get it!" Zorak cut in.

Brak crossed his arms. "I thought it was a decent presentation."

"Look, can we just get on with your stupid evil plan before I get bored?"

"You're right, Zorak. The time to act is now!"

"No, now it's time you got grounded until the next freakin' ice age!"

All eyes fell on the newcomer, who slowly hopped into the basement atop a superglued chair. Brak smirked. "Your determination is commendable, Father."

"You're–not–going–anywhere!" Dad yelled between hops. Most of Brak's recruits winced at each clap. "You're–in–big–trouble! I–give me a moment." After catching his breath, Dad resumed his tirade. "I've been stuck to my chair for three hours, my buttocks have gone completely numb, and I'd had it up to here with your insubordination! Do you have anything to say before I deliver your well-deserved life sentence?!"

The grin returned. "Can you swim?"

One smash cut later, Dad, now tied to his superglued chair, dangled precariously over a giant pool. A dull-eyed shark surfaced from its blue depths and stared at him. It wheezed. Dad stared back. It wheezed some more.

Zorak frowned. "You couldn't find a better shark?"

"Not on short notice, no. He is rather unsettling, though."

"Yeah, I guess."

"You think this scares me?! I was wrestling with sharks and alligators and cosmonaut bears with one arm tied behind my back!"

"Then perhaps it's good we tied both arms." Brak gestured to the shark. "In a matter of minutes, that rope will break. Once you hit the water…oh, why spoil the fun? It's unfortunate we won't be around to see it."

"You kiddin'? I'm getting the whole thing recorded." Zorak pointed to a mounted camera.

"Excellent."

Dad's face softened. And equally soft music filtered through. "I think I understand, now. You're in that special time of your life, when it's natural to rebel against your parents, superglue one of them to a chair, and try to feed them to a shark. Your hormones and chemistry and the little voice in your head that commands you to eradicate your enemies all compete for the kingdom of your brain. I know that pain. I once–"

Brak jabbed his pointer finger, silencing the music. "Enough with your half-assed nuggets of parental wisdom! Come forth, my fellow evil-doers. We have a fortress to raid." He, Zorak, and the recruits departed (after one of the Chestbreakers paused to point and laugh at Dad's predicament).

The tied-up man returned his gaze to the shark. The shark continued to wheeze. Dad glared. "You're lucky my good arm's tired, buddy."

* * *

Despite the depiction of Brak and Zorak setting fire to Clarence's house in crayon, Mom couldn't find Brak. And once Clarence settled down from the thought of his "friend" willingly visiting his home, she dropped into a convenient brown sofa. "I suppose I shouldn't have trusted that drawing."

"THUNDERCLEESE TIRES OF WAITING. WHERE IS BRAK, SO THAT I MAY NONVIOLENTLY PUNISH HIM?"

"We just have to think like Brak," Clarence volunteered. Much to Mom's concern and Thundercleese's indifference, the purple teen pressed his hands to his temples and tried to mimic Brak's laughter. "Hey, everybody! I'm Brak, and I like hanging out with my best friend, Clarence! We'll have so much fun together! Ha ha ha ha!"

Thankfully before Thundercleese could draw his wrist-mounted blaster, the TV clicked on. "Breaking news!" the green-headed newscaster called out to them. "We've received this diabolical broadcast from Thundercleese's fortress!"

To Mom and Clarence's horror (and Thundercleese's growing rage), Brak appeared with Zorak and some one-shot characters they vaguely recognized. "Attention, everyone. We are broadcasting from within Thundercleese's private bunker. We've commandeered the largest weapon in his arsenal. Behold." The camera pulled back, revealing a ludicrously huge (and totally not Photoshopped) missile labeled BIG MUTHA.

Mom turned disbelievingly to Thundercleese. "I HAD TO PREPARE FOR THE MINUSCULE CHANCE OF A WAR I COULD NOT WIN!" the robot replied, defensively. "HOW DID THEY BYPASS MY SECURITY?!"

The camera zoomed back onto the evil-doers. Zorak propped up his jackhammer with a cackle. "Hey, Thunderjerk! Your security ain't jackhammer-proof!"

"AAAAARGH! I RESCIND MY PROMISE! I WILL DESTROY THEM!"

"Our demands are simple," Brak continued. "Surrender to our collective will and become our slaves, or we set off Big Mutha and wait out your complete and utter annihilation. The choice is yours." His grin turned Mom's blood cold. "I'm sure you'll make the right decision." The newscaster returned with desperate pleas for divine intervention.

"We're too late!" Clarence bawled. "Brak has fallen to the dark side! And he didn't even think to invite me into his new club!"

Mom stood up. "No, I'm putting an end to this. I'll get my sweet boy back and stop him from making the absolute worst decision of his life." She marched outside. Clarence and Thundercleese exchanged glances and followed.

A squirrel in the nearby tree dragged his strangely glowing green acorn across the branch. He turned to the three. "What are you idiots standing around for? Some nutjob's gonna blow us all to Kingdom Come!"

Mom glared. "That nutjob is my son."

"Great job, lady. You certainly raised him well. I'm sure he learned a lot of important life lessons between recruiting henchmen and mastering the controls to a nuclear warhead! If I knew he was gonna kill us all, I woulda hit 'im a lot harder when I first saw 'im!"

"Why you–wait, you've met Brak?"

"Yeah, I met him. He was singing some stupid song and thought I was a talking tree. Then he made me drop my acorn, it hit him on the head, and suddenly he's hell-bent on bombing the world a new one! Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta get out of here before that Mutha hits!"

"Is that thing radioactive?"

"Oh, no, this is mine, lady! And while I admit you're quite a lovely specimen, I ain't giving up my precious acorn! And it's hardly my fault your son's got a screw loose!"

"Thundercleese?"

The robot seized the glowing acorn. The squirrel struggled to pry it from the robot's fingers. Thundercleese tugged harder. The acorn launched into the air. It struck the squirrel, knocking him to the sidewalk. It bounced and rolled towards Mom, who carefully collected it into her arms. The squirrel blinked a couple times, stood up, and cradled his head. His bulging eyes fitted back into their sockets. "Where am I?" he asked in a far kinder voice.

"Are you all right?"

"I have a bit of a headache, but I'm fine. Tell me, why are you holding a radioactive acorn?"

"Nevermind that. I need this to stop my son from detonating a giant bomb. May I borrow it?"

"Go ahead and take it as long as you like. I'm not looking to get cancer. Have a nice day. Enjoy the chemo."

"Well, that was quite rude. And you were the reason any of this happened in the first place…" Mom swung her leg and punted the squirrel into the distance. Clarence gawked. She shook her head. "We've got to stop Brak from firing that missile! Thundercleese, can you take us to your fortress?"

"I WILL TRANSPORT YOU, AND WE WILL SEEK VENGEANCE WITH A FULL SALVO!"

"Thundercleese," she warned.

"VERY WELL, I WILL TRANSPORT YOU, AND WE WILL RETURN YOUR SON TO HIS GENERAL STATE OF IGNORANT BLISS. AND IT WILL BE A GLORIOUS, NONVIOLENT BATTLE!"

"That's better."

"Do you think we can still save him, Brak's Mom?"

Mom took a deep breath. "We will, Clarence. We will."

* * *

"You said they'd surrender already!" Mobab whined. "I'm missing the Gentleman's Soirée. Mother will be quite disappointed if I don't attend!"

"I heard you five minutes ago. And unless you want one of your tiny pies torn to shreds, you'll stop talking, right now."

Zorak looked around the bunker. Mobab stared at the floor, beak snapped shut. Brak remained at the control panel, fingers eager to press the big red button. The Chestbreakers polished their flamethrowers' barrels and tanks. The Crow pecked at the ground and screamed about finishing some unimportant project. The Slug trailed more sickly green slime from the bathroom. Zorak shuddered. _If I'm gonna be stuck down here, we gotta get rid of that guy. Between the garden rants and the slime trails…_

A screeching alarm broke his concentration. The security screens revealed Thundercleese smashing through numerous bulkhead doors, with Mom and Clarence tailing behind. She cradled something in her arms. Zorak's eyes narrowed. "Is that…?"

"They must not get through." Brak pointed to the doors. "Stop them at all costs! If they penetrate our inner sanctum, this will all be for nothing! And when you're done blasting them to smithereens, we'll all sit back and enjoy our tasty supply of Beef Logs."

"Yeah, I got rid of those," Zorak spoke up.

Brak's head slowly cranked towards the mantis. "You did _what_?"

Zorak's beak scrunched. "I can't stand that stuff. So I threw out your stash and replaced them with Cheese Logs. They're much better."

Brak's lower jaw trembled. Zorak glanced between the catlike alien and the others, who slowly backed away. "Yeesh, I don't know what your problem is–"

One of Zorak's yellow gloves struck and peeled off The Slug's exposed brain. The elder Chestbreakers clasped their children's eyes. Mobab pressed his tentacles to his head and hummed a pleasant tune. The Crow desperately searched for a work-related distraction. Soon enough, the offscreen screaming came to an end.

"What are you all looking at? Get them!" Brak roared.

The recruits wisely vacated into the hallway outside, The Slug taking up the rear. They soon spotted Mom, Thundercleese, and Clarence breaking through the final bulkhead. The Chestbreakers prepped their flamethrowers. Mobab chanted a mock-Sinatra song. The Crow violently pecked the air. And The Slug…eventually caught up, laughing maniacally.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, VILLAINS! WHERE IS BRAK?!"

"You'll never reach him in time!" The Slug proclaimed, still stuck behind the others. "We're unstoppable! We'll conquer the world and all its leafy treasures!"

"I'll peck out your worthless little eyes!" The Crow jabbed his beak for emphasis.

Mobab slithered towards Mom. "We meet again, my lovely. It's sad to reunite under such dire circumstances. Of course, I can always be persuaded to let you join our team." His eyebrows wiggled.

Mom ignored him and addressed the others. "Please, you must let me speak to my son. We have to stop him before he detonates that bomb."

"Scram!" The Crow cawed. "Scram, if you don't want me to drink your sweet eye juices!"

"Yes, we will obliterate you and take all your gardens for ourselves!" The Slug chimed.

Clarence stepped forward. "You people corrupted Brak! It's your fault my best friend has turned to the side of evil! You must be stopped!" He rushed at The Slug. Much to Mom and Thundercleese's surprise, the purple teen tackled the slimy supervillain and splattered his head with a few wild punches. "And I'll do the same to the rest of…oh, my gosh. I actually beat one of the bad guys to save Brak? I'm a true her–!"

The Crow and The Chestbreakers lunged with pecks and fiery discharges. Clarence screamed and tried in vain to roll away. Thundercleese turned to Mom. "I WILL DEAL WITH THEM. SAVE YOUR SON. DO NOT LET THE PURPLE ONE'S SACRIFICE BE IN VAIN!"

"I'm not dead!" Clarence protested between screams.

Mom bolted past The Crow and The Chestbreakers. But Mobab slid into her path. "Please reconsider. I'd hate to lose such a valuable, beautiful woman like yourself to the madness that will soon engulf the world."

"Oh, bugger off!" Mom drove her knee under Mobab's beak. The culturally-refined squid alien crumpled. She continued towards the inner sanctum.

Behind her, Thundercleese hefted his wrist-mounted blasters. "I MADE NO PROMISES TO RESOLVE YOU WITHOUT VIOLENCE. PREPARE TO TASTE MY RAGE!"

The Crow, The Chestbreakers, and the heartbroken Mobab readied to attack. The avian snapped his beak. The family of monsters sprayed the open air with flames. And Mobab curled his tentacles in an ungentlemanly, pugilistic manner. They leapt towards Thundercleese…and were blown to smithereens in the ensuing hail of laserfire. Save for Mobab's top hat, which gently drifted onto the scorched floor. Thundercleese stared ahead. Only she could stop him, now. Nonviolently.

Still cradling the radioactive acorn to her chest, Mom slowly approached Brak. Her son faced BIG MUTHA jutting out of the metal floor. Off to her far left, she saw…no, she would ignore that. Things were stressful enough. "Brak."

"Hello, Mother." He slowly turned around. "I suppose you're here to stop me."

"You can't go through with this. Stop this now, before it's too late."

"It already is too late. This is the real me, brought forth by that infernal acorn you hold in your arms. Once, I was a mere simpleton, a fool, an idiot everyone made fun of and barely tolerated. But now, I'm someone who commands respect. I'm a new man, Mother. And I'm not going back."

"Brak, this isn't you. You're a sweet boy, who loves beans and singing and Hippo. You remember Hippo? You loved him so much."

"I outgrew that stupid lobster doll. There is nothing you can say that will stop me. I finally command respect. I'm finally more than some schmoe who dresses like a potato for talent shows. I'm finally a someone; and I love it."

Mom's gaze fell to the floor. "If I can't talk you down from nuclear annihilation, then can I at least have a final request?"

Brak regarded her skeptically. "Perhaps."

She set the acorn onto the floor and extended her arms. "I want a hug. A simple hug from my boy, before he burns the entire world. That's all I want."

Brak looked between her and the acorn. "Very well. I'll grant your final request." He extended his arms and approached her, holding a suspicious glare.

"Thank you, sweetie." She embraced him. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like an idiot. You were always a someone to me."

Brak's glare softened. "You mean it?"

"I do. You're my special boy." Her eyes watered.

His soon did the same. "I…Mom…"

She patted his back. "It's okay, Brak. And I'm sorry."

"What–?"

Mom slammed her forehead hard into his. Brak stumbled backwards. She quickly seized the acorn and threw it. The glowing green seed bounced off his head and towards the control panel. Thankfully, it missed the big red button and smashed something presumably far less dangerous off-camera. Brak blinked and slowly stood up.

"Brak? Are you all right?"

He blinked, as if seeing the world for the first time. "I feel like that time I got into a headkicking contest with Zorak. He handed me my little red butt." He guffawed.

Mom smiled and embraced her son once more. "I'm glad you're back."

"Was I sleepwalking again? Where are we, Mom?"

"Thundercleese's private bunker. You had a little mishap."

"Hope I didn't break nuthin'. Thundercranky doesn't like it when Zorak and me touch his stuff." He looked around. "Where is Zorak, anyway?"

Mom winced. "He'll be back, honey. Just don't turn around."

"Okay!"

Thundercleese quickly passed the two and aborted the missile launch. BIG MUTHA slid harmlessly into the floor. "HAS BRAK RETURNED TO HIS NORMAL, IMBECILIC SELF?"

"Yes, everything's fine, now, Thundercleese."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"You were hit on the head with a radioactive acorn. It turned you evil, and you threatened to destroy the neighborhood with one of Thundercleese's bombs. And while we're glad you're back to normal, you're grounded."

"Awww, man," Brak moaned. "Grounded for something I don't even remember doing. I didn't hurt anybody, did I?"

Mom resisted looking off-camera. "No, you didn't hurt anyone. And he'll come back, anyway. He always does."

"What?"

"Nothing, dear. Now, let's go home."

"Okay, Mom. See you, Mr. Thundercleese!"

"VACATE MY PROPERTY BEFORE I RESCIND MY PROMISE A SECOND TIME."

Mom gently gripped Brak's arm. "Let's go."

"Okay. So am I gonna be in a lot more trouble?"

"I doubt it. There's always something that threatens our world. And when it's over, no one will remember it. The important thing is that you didn't hurt anyone. And that you're someone."

"Of course I'm someone. I'm Brak!"

Mom sharply inhaled. "Yes, yes, you are."

"Thanks. I'm glad I have such a great Mom."

"And I'm glad to have such a good son."

They smiled at one another. And outside the bunker, they spotted a beaten, burnt, pecked Clarence. Unaware of the chaos he ensued, Brak offered a thumbs-up. Clarence beamed–as best as he could with so few teeth remaining–and shuffled along with them.

Oblivious to the smells of ozone and burnt flesh, Brak turned to his mother. "Did we forget something? I feel like we're forgetting something."

Mom laughed. "No, dear. We've just had a long day. It'll be over, soon."

* * *

The shark continued to wheeze, unblinking even as water swept into its eyes. Dad sighed. The soft music returned at his command.

"You know, I learned something today. When your son discovers his full potential as a villain, you should be proud. After all, a father should bring out the best in his children. And if your son is now smarter than a bag of hammers, you should welcome his attempts to feed you to a man-hungry shark. It'll open a whole new world of evil college and career opportunities. And if I survive, I can persuade him to make me king of a planet he'll surely conquer. But nothing too small or gassy–I still have to have some standards. Do you understand?"

The shark wheezed.

Dad glared. "What the hell is taking them so long? Oh, they did not forget about me! I'll show them! I'll gnaw through these ropes and hop my way to freedom. And once I'm free from this chair, I'll demand three planets! No, five! Including one of the good ones with an eternal supply of geothermic energy! That'll show–"

The rope snapped. The shark wheezed louder.

"Oh, for the love of–!"


End file.
